Bed of Lies
by Rachel Lynn
Summary: Matt's dad kicks him out. Where's he supposed to go now? Jyouto. Yaoi. Alternate ending.


****

Disclaimer: Jyou is not mine! *sob* And neither is Digimon…Oh, and before I forget, the song ain't mine either. It's 'Bed of Lies" by Matchbox 20. 

****

Author's note: *looks* I think this is the longest songfic I've ever written. But it was a blast to write. ^-^ I don't know if there was enough romance in it to be qualified as a romance, but oh well. I can't help it. I *really* like Jyoutos. (Or Yamajyou's depending on how you wanna go about it…) Let's see…things to know. Jyou's twenty. Matt's eighteen. The fic starts off from Yama's point of view and flips back and forth with Jyou's. Someone on Cynthia's board (Ken, I think?) indicated that Jyou has two brothers, the older one of which was Shuu. (Who Saban turned into Jim in the dub. *makes a face*) So good ole Shuu got stuck in this fic cause of his ties to the movie industry. (Sense? I'm supposed to make sense? Since when?! *sweatdrops*) I got the initial idea for this fic from Finny so she, of course, deserves credit. ^-^ Thanks for everything Finny-chan! I couldn't write Yama worth a tinker's damn if it weren't for you. ^-^ 

Okay, I posted up one version of this story already, but I really didn't like the way I ended it. *chokes on the sappiness of the other ending* Of course, I'm not so sure this one is much better, but oh well. At least it fits in a bit better. *sweatdrops* He..he…So, I'm taking down the other one and putting this one up instead. ^-^ If you really honestly want to see how the other one ended, drop me a line. (skylark97@yahoo.com)

****

Bed of Lies

By Rachel Lynn

__

No I would not sleep in this bed of lies

So toss me out and turn in

***

Of all the reactions I could have gotten, this was the one I had feared the most. Which just figures. Why should this go smoothly when nothing else in my life ever has? Struggle after struggle. It's a never-ending human condition, and it seems to be one I'm particularly fond of putting myself through. I could have just kept my mouth shut. I could have just gone along with the stories he wanted to believe. That would have been the smarter thing to do. 

Funny thing about smarts, though. You can have loads of it, and still never have a clue. 

I suppose I shouldn't let that bother me. Being smart or doing the smart thing was never my strong point. Staring up at the apartment building that used to be my home, I can manage a small smile. Think logically, Dad's always said. Don't let your emotions rule you. 

I deliberately turn my back to the building and hike my backpack higher up on my shoulders. Just another thing I couldn't do right, I can't help but smirk. Don't let my emotions rule me? What a crock. This is my heart. My desires. My dreams. I'm not going to abandon them because someone serves me cold, callous logic. 

Turning down the road, all I can see is a never-ending expanse of concrete and asphalt. I can manage a humorless grin at that, it all just looks so dead here in the moonlight. Guess most of the world believes in Dad's logic. Guess I knew that going in. 

There's nothing to do now but wander aimlessly. There's no where to go. No one that I want to turn to. I know they won't all react like Dad, or at least, my head knows that. But I've got my pride. Go sniveling back to your friends, he'd shouted to me as I left. Why should I? Where's the guarantee that they won't respond the same way? 

Besides, I've done this to myself. It only seems right that I deal with it myself. Me. Yamato Ishida. 

I'm gay. A homosexual. A fag. And even being that, knowing that; I hate all those words. Too many people--people like my father--before me have taken them, twisted their meaning, and made them something sick and obscene. I just don't see it the way they do. The way he does. 

I close my eyes for a moment and wrap and arm around the phone pole next to me. When I was a kid, I used to love being by myself. I'd close my eyes in the stillness and just let the wind whistle by my ears, and I'd smile as it teased at my unruly hair. There was a feeling of shared freedom when I was there with just the wind. And as the breeze tickles at my collar, I can feel it again. 

Smiling now, I manage not to let the tears sneak past my eyes. I haven't felt this free for a long time. There were too many years there that I spent trying to live his lies. Not anymore. 

This is who I am. This is what I am. I can't change that. I don't want to. 

I tug my backpack up on my shoulder again as I push away from the phone pole. I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm doing. God, what a mess I've made of everything so far. If my life were a play, it'd be "Matt Strikes Out Again". I shake my head with a wry grin. I can picture the whole thing. 

Something wet plops against my face and head, and looking up, I'm not really surprised to see the combination of snow and rain as it falls down around me. There's a cold beauty to it, and I sit down at the bus stop bench to just watch it fall. 

I know it doesn't make any sense. I know I should be worrying about things like shelter and food and warmth. But as I feel the water trickle off the ends of my bangs and down the back of my neck, I can't bring myself to. Maybe I'm in shock. Maybe I didn't expect Dad to take it as badly as he did. Maybe I just don't care anymore. 

I run my hands through my hair, slicking it back off my face, and leaning back, I close my eyes and just let the rain come down.

***

__

And there'll be no rest for these tired eyes

I'm marking it down to learning I am

***

Half an hour early, like every other day of my pathetic life. Good old Jyou, he's always there when you need him. He's never late. I hate that. Good old reliable Jyou. Is that the only person I get to be in this life? Can't I be…well…me? 

I manage a small snort as I pull my bag's strap back up over my shoulder, and walk out the door to my apartment. Be a man, my father's always telling me. That was always something of a mystery to me as a child. Be a man? Wasn't it a given that one day I would be? It took me a while, but eventually I figured out what he meant by that. 

Be a man. Men don't whine over things like allergies. Men take risks and are willing to get down and dirty. Men like women. Sure, I know what he means now. At twenty, he's still admonishing me. Be a man, Jyou, he always says before we finish talking on the phone. I can't help but think that he knows the truth about me. 

How did I get sucked into this? When did his wishes and desires start outweighing and over taking mine? 

Maybe it's because I'm the youngest of three. Maybe it's because my brothers have already gone against his wishes to live their own lives. Maybe it's because both he and I know that I'm his last hope. And being the good reliable son that I am, I'll let him toss me around with marionette strings. 

The weather's being it's usual disagreeable self. Snow and rain again today, and me with a four block walk to the bus stop. Some days, it just doesn't pay to get out of bed and walk out the door. But I'll do it. I have done it. Through asthma attacks, through strep throat, through study nights without sleep. Be a man. Why do I have to keep affirming and reaffirming that? What do I have to do to prove, once and for all, that I am? That is, if there is anything I can do to prove that. 

I'm beginning to have my doubts. 

I take a long hard look down the road. Asphalt and concrete over almost every inch. Artificial. Just like my life. I give a small, exasperated sigh as the water drips down my hair. I'm usually never like this. Usually I'm my good little robot self. Maybe it's something in the wind. Maybe I'm coming down with something. 

Coming to a halt at the bus stop, I look disinterestedly at my surroundings. Anything to try to get my mind out of this rut it's fallen into. Be a man, Jyou. Go to medical school, Jyou. Be a doctor, Jyou. Be straight, Jyou. 

According to my watch, I've got twenty minutes before the bus comes, so I duck into the overhang they have. I guess it doesn't matter much, I'm already soaked. There's some poor guy sitting out there in the snowy rain. He's been out there for a while too, judging from the way he looks. He's got to be miserable. And I know I shouldn't care. 

Just another homeless guy, leave him be, Jyou. That's what my father would say. Apparently that's another one of the many endless requirements there is to being a man. Stoicism. I shouldn't let life get to me. I shouldn't wear my heart on my sleeve, and I shouldn't care. Nasty things happen in life, that's a sad fact, he'd tell me. There's a whole karma loop to it, he'd tell me. I should just leave the guy alone, he's brought it on himself, my father'd say. 

I step out from under the overhang and make my way to the bench. Some days, I realize, I'll never be a man. I'll never be the man my father wants me to be. 

"Say, sir?" I ask hesitantly as I reach down and shake his shoulder slightly. His brow furrows for a moment and then his eyes pop open. Brilliant blue eyes. 

"Jyou?" 

***

__

Don't think that I can take another empty moment

Don't think that I can fake another hollow smile

***

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and slowly I open my eyes. How long have I just been sitting here? I look up, and do a double take. 

"Jyou?" I haven't seen him in years. Guess we just moved in different circles. Me, I was the rebel without a cause. Determined to raise hell. Jyou, he was the straight A wonder boy. I almost laugh as it takes him a second to recognize me. Why can't you be more like those friends of yours, Jyou and Koushiro? My Dad'd always asked. 

"Matt? Oh my God, Matt, is that you?" He all but bodily hauls me to my feet. Everything feels so stiff. Guess I spent too long just trying to clear my head. "C'mon and get out of the rain." He drags me over to that excuse of an overhang that they have for a bus stop. God, I feel like shit. 

"Man, musta been out there longer than I thought." I mumble as I pull my backpack higher up on my shoulder. It's soaked through, just like me. Geez, I'm an idiot. That's my life on my back, and now I know it's gonna be a while before I'm warm and dry again. 

"Matt." I can feel Jyou's hand on my forehead, so I look over at him. He's got violet eyes. Odd. I'd never really noticed that about him before. He's wet too, and that long indigo hair of his is hanging limply at the sides of his face. He looks good. 

What am I saying? This is Jyou. He's a guy. I'm a guy. 

But I've been through all this before. Why should I feel guilty for thinking he's cute? Why should I beat myself up like this because he's a guy and I find him attractive? That makes no sense. Didn't I just make a vow? I have to be true to who I am. I have to. I take a deep, calming breath as Jyou looks at me with worried violet eyes. So I think he's as sexy as hell. Big deal. I'm allowed to feel that. 

"Good God, you're burning up, Matt. What were you thinking?" Thinking? I manage a humorless smile. According to my Dad, I don't know how to do that. 

"What time is it?" I mumble again, bringing my wrist in front of me. The watch's shaking so bad that I can't manage to read it. When did I start shivering? Why can't I stop? 

"I'm taking you to my place. You haven't got any business being out here like this. You're gonna make yourself sick. In fact, I'm pretty sure you already have." 

"Jyou?" I look up at him confused. Sure, he's good old reliable Jyou. Or he was. It's been years though. He doesn't owe me a thing. He doesn't have to do this. "Don't you have class or something? You go on. I'll be fine. Just a quick stop at home, and I'll be as good as new." How I managed to smile, I'm not sure. My teeth are chattering so hard now, that it feels like they're rattling around in my skull. And that was one heck of a whopper. Go home? What home? 

Still, I'm not dragging Jyou into this screwed up life of mine. He doesn't deserve that. 

"Screw class. Matt, you live thirty blocks away." Jyou strips my backpack off my shoulders, and I watch as it plops onto the ground with a soggy thud. I can feel his fingers as they're at the nape of my neck, peeling off the sodden excuse for a jacket I'm wearing. I turn to look at him and protest, but he's already shrugging out of his coat. What in the hell does he think he's doing? 

"My jacket's waterproof, so it's still dry on the inside." He throws it around my shoulders. "C'mon Matt. Drop the tough guy act for now. Four blocks and we can get you dried off." He tugs gently at me, and I can feel myself wobbling. Maybe he's got a point. Four blocks? God, it sounds like a fricking marathon right now. He's got my backpack there on his shoulder. 

Okay, four blocks, get dry, and then leave. I think I can manage that. I hope I can manage that. Stumbling slightly, I follow him as he takes the lead. I'll just get warm and then leave. 

***

__

It's not enough just to be sorry.

Don't think that I could take

Another talk about it

***

Matt. Yamato Ishida. I hesitate, my hand suspended in mid air over his forehead. He'll never know. He's sleeping so deeply that I think it would take a massive Earthquake to pull him out of it. My hand falls lightly on his forehead, and I brush those wild bangs out of his face. 

I used to envy him. Still do, if truth be told. Rebel Matt. If there was ever someone to buck the system, it would be Matt. God, how I wished I could be him when I was younger. Even in the Digiworld, through all the problems we faced. While I spent most of the time whining about my allergies or about everyone's general recklessness, he spent his time actually doing something worthwhile. 

He just did everything with such conviction. Even when he fought Tai, even when he left us all to find himself again. He's got an ear to his heart. He follows what he feels, I could always tell by just watching him. And me? Sure, my heart squeaks loud enough for me to hear it occasionally. But I keep it buried pretty deep. 

I pull the blanket tighter up around him, and feel his forehead again. He's burning up. But even with those flushed cheeks, he looks good. 

Yanking my hand away, I turn my back to him. Be a man, Jyou. I can hear my father's voice echoing through my head. Be a man, he says. What he really is saying is be straight, Jyou. 

"Jyou?" I wince. So much for the whole "he'll sleep through an earthquake". And I'm supposed to be a doctor? I can just see it now. "I'm sorry Dr. Kido, but this patient is already dead, didn't you know that?" God, I'm a moron.

"Hey Matt." I turn back around and look down at him. He's got great eyes. Always did. Looking away, I struggle not to blush. He's a guy. I'm a guy. It's just not right. I should know that. Haven't I been told that, over and over again? "How're you feeling?" Those blue eyes are looking up at me. He doesn't realize it, or at least I don't think he realizes it, but his feelings are in his eyes. They always have been. 

"You want the truth?" Vulnerable and hurt. That's what I can see. Why? Who knows. He's not the type to share. 

"Yeah. It'd be kind of pointless if you lied." I tell him with what I hope is a grin. 

"I'm cold. Freezing actually." I nod. It's to be expected. I'm pretty sure he's running a temp. Slowly, I climb to my feet and over to the one closet this apartment has. "So this is your place, huh?" He asks as I pull out another blanket. 

"Yeah. For now anyway. My Dad expects that once I get through med school, I'll be in one of those pricey apartments in uptown Odaiba." The idea literally makes me nauseous. Turning my thoughts away from the future, I tuck the blanket in around Matt. "Do you want me to call your Dad or TK or someone to tell them that you're here?" 

It seemed like an innocent enough question to me. Apparently it isn't though. He rolls onto his side, his back facing me. "Nah. I'm fine. Just give me a minute and I'll get up and be outta your hair. This has got to be screwing with your schedule." My schedule? Who cares about my schedule? I may not be anything like him and I may not have seen much of him for the last couple of years, but he's still my friend. 

"Matt, you're sick. Just give me your Dad's number and I can call him and have him pick you up." I get back up on my feet and reach for my bag. It's not until I start pulling out the paper though, that I can hear his ragged breathing. He's crying. For a moment, all I can do is stand there in shock. This is Matt. I may have made that crack earlier about dropping the tough guy act, but truth is, to my eyes, it was never an act. "Matt?" 

"Don't bother with my Dad. I'm not that sick." He peels back the covers and sits up with his back still to me. "Lemme just get my things together, and I'll be on my way. Sorry about all this, Jyou." He climbs unsteadily to his feet, and I can hear the traces of tears in his voice. Obviously something's going on between him and his Dad that I don't know about. 

"Matt, lay back down." I walk over to him, and put my hands on his shoulders. He shrugs them off and I feel my face flush. Okay, so that wasn't the way to go about it. "You wanna talk about it?" I ask him quietly as he walks across the room to his backpack. If he thinks I'm letting him out of this apartment like that in this weather, he better have another thought coming. 

"No." He doesn't elaborate. 

"Fine. You don't have to tell me, and I'm sorry I pried." He turns to face me--finally--at that. "But if you don't want to go home, you can always just stay here you know. It's not a problem. It'll give us a chance to catch up on old times." So it's a lame excuse. I don't think well on my feet. I never have. An ER surgeon. That's the ambition my father has for me. I get tongue tied when someone asks me what flavor ice cream I want on my cone. The idea of what I'll be like when someone asks me to make a life or death decision gives me heart palpitations.

He hesitates for a moment, and he looks up at me with those deep blue eyes of his. "You sure you don't mind?" Oh, he's sick all right. If there's one thing I know about Matt, I know he's got a lot of pride. He'd have been out that door in a heartbeat if he'd been feeling well. 

"Positive. Go lay back down while I get us some tea, and you some Tylenol." Reluctantly, he walks back to the bed and all but collapses on it. I guess I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he pulled those covers back over him. 

***

__

Just like me you got needs

And they're only a whisper away

***

I push back the covers in the darkness. Where the hell am I? Oh, Jyou's. God, how long have I been asleep? I crawl out of bed and stumble slightly in the darkness as I reach for my backpack on the floor. Damn. It's still wet. I should have spread my clothes out before I fell asleep. I stumble about a bit more, trying to find the bathroom. 

"Matt, s'that you?" I manage a grin at Jyou sleepy voice. Even half asleep, he's got a nice voice. Soothing. 

"Yeah, sorry I woke you up, Man." I blink in the darkness, and finally in the twilight, I can make out his form on the other side of the bed I was sleeping on. Man, I can't believe he let me take his bed like that. If I'd known I was going to sleep all night, I would have insisted he take the bed. I've probably slept on the floor with just a blanket more times than he has. And after he was nice enough to just let me crash here. Sighing, I can't help but feel guilty. Oh well, it'll be morning soon, and I'll be on my way. 

"S'not a problem. Whatcha doing?" I think he's only half-awake, so I don't feel bad about smiling in the darkness. He's just always been so…reliable. So mature. Sure, he whined a lot. But when we were in the digiworld, it was kind of implied that he was the adult among us. Jyou, the oldest. He was the one who took care of everybody. Oh, he wasn't obvious about it or anything, but he made sure everybody got to where we were going in one piece. Hearing him like this is almost a treat. He just sounds so much like…well…like a sleepy kid. It's cute. 

"Trying to find your bathroom and my clothes. I'm soaked." I tell him wryly. I can hear him rustling around in the darkness. The place suddenly floods with light, as he flips a switch, and for a moment I can't see a blasted thing. "Ow."

"Sorry." He still sounds pretty sleepy. I open my eyes again, this time they're adjusted to the light, and it's all I can do not to gape. First off, he's not wearing a shirt. Secondly, the pajama pants he does have on are riding low on his hips. Damn. If I thought he looked good before! Quit staring, stupid. It takes effort, but I wrench my eyes away from him. How come I never realized he was this cute before? "Your fever must've broke." 

"Huh?" I turn back and stare at him blankly for a minute. "Oh yeah. I am feeling kind of better." I should have realized that myself. I'm not shivering anymore. 

"Well, your clothes are still wet, so you're gonna have to wear some of mine. Hope that's not a problem." He's already digging through his dresser. I manage a smile as I stare at that broad back of his. I guess that's one of the things I always liked about him. He's always looking out for someone else. He puts everyone else's needs before his own. Sometimes…sometimes I don't think he pays enough attention to what _he_ needs. "Here's a pair of pants." He tosses 'em to me, and starts digging again. 

"The pants are enough. I already soaked through a pair of pants and a shirt of yours already. If I keep it up, you're gonna have laundry coming out your ears." I head over to the bathroom before he can find me a shirt. 

***

__

And we softly surrender

To these lives we've tendered away

***

He's managed to sweat through all the bedding. Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm so reliable. I've got two more extra blankets and five more sets of sheets in the closet. His fever's broken. For now anyway. I've got my suspicions though, it's probably just the Tylenol taking effect. I reach over to my desktop and grab my glasses. I'm practically as blind as a bat without them. 

I can hear him banging around in the bathroom, and I can grin at that. It's nice to have someone else in this apartment with me. Guess I didn't realize how lonely it was before. Guess I didn't realize how lonely _I_ was before. Sneezing, I walk across the room. My head's kind of feeling stuffed up, and if I'm not careful, Matt's not going to be the only sick one in this apartment.

Opening the closet, I reach up to grab the last two blankets. They're my winter blankets, so they're both pretty big and bulky. Generally, I don't use them at all because they're a pain in the ass to take out and put away. So of course, as I move them, a small cloud of dust flies up into the air. Great. I sneeze again. 

"Jyou? What are you doing?" I feel a hand resting on my shoulder, and I turn to see Matt standing behind me. He's got my pants on, and they're about three inches too long on him, so the fabric's pooling there on his feet. And he's barely got them hanging on those hips of his. Then there's the fact that he isn't wearing a shirt. My heart rams up into my throat. It should be against the law for a guy to look that good. 

Oh God this is _Matt_. Be a man, Jyou. I can hear my father's words echoing in my head all over again, choking out my own thoughts. I'm not supposed to feel these things! I'm not supposed to feel this way! 

I turn to look back up at the blankets, tugging slightly at them without paying much attention to them at all. My chest's feeling tight, and I can recognize the signs. I try to take a deep breath, but as I do the blankets come crashing down. God, I'm a clutz. They knock off my glasses, and I take a step backwards in reaction, bumping straight into Matt. 

Feeling his skin against mine's enough to trigger the rest of the attack. Wheezing, I stumble away from him. I can't see a thing, so I fall to my knees and grope for my glasses. 

"Jyou? Jyou, what's the matter?" His hand with my glasses in it is there in front of my face. I grab them, and shove them on my face. My breaths are coming in short stunted gasps, and I'm beginning to see shadows dancing in front of my eyes. 

God, I hate these things. I hate not being able to catch my breath. I hate feeling this helpless and out of control. 

Stumbling to my desk, I rip the drawer out of it, slam it on the desk top, and fish my inhaler out of it. Shoving it in my mouth, I push down as I take a deep breath. Sagging down onto my chair, I wait for it to start taking effect. It always feels like an eternity, instead of the six or seven breaths it takes. I hate the weakness that comes with this. It's always a reminder of just how many more I possess. 

"Jyou?" I flick open my eyes and look up at Matt. He's sitting on my desk, staring at me with those concerned blue eyes of his. Figures he'd make himself at home like that. I suppose I should say something whiny about how he's gonna mess up my papers or ruin the desk or something. But at this point, who cares? I wouldn't mean it, he'd take it the wrong way, and right now, I just don't have the energy to soothe his wounded pride. "You gonna be okay?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. Sorry about that." I mumble as I push to my feet. He hops off the desk and lightly shoves me back down. I open my mouth to protest but he arches an eyebrow and just gives me a look.

"I can get the blankets just fine." He walks over to the closet and pulls them off the floor just to demonstrate. "How come you never told the rest of us you had Asthma?" There's a hint of reproach in his voice, and I wince a bit at it. Why didn't I tell them? Why should I have? 

"It just never came up." I manage as I climb to my feet. 

"Well, yeah, but what would we have done if something like that had happened to you back in the Digiworld, Jyou?" He shakes the blanket out and lays it down on the bed. Sneezing all over again, I sit back down. Air pollution, dust, pollen, my allergies. They all aggravate my asthma something fierce. And I'm _not_ having another attack tonight. Once is plenty. 

"Never happened when we were there. As long as I was with Gomamon, I never had an attack." I get up and lay back down on the makeshift bed I've made on the floor. Matt looks down guiltily at me. "Matt, I sleep on the floor all the time. It's good for my back." I lie. Reluctantly, he reaches over and flips out the lights and I can hear him stumbling around a bit before he finds his way back onto the bed. 

"Do you…do you ever miss them?" He asks quietly. Do I miss Gomamon? Yeah. Everyday of my life. 

"Sure, I miss him. You? I know you and Gabumon were pretty close." 

"Yeah. We were." Even to my ears, his voice sounds strained. "Sometimes I wish I could just go back. Life just made more _sense_ when we were there." 

I'd have to agree. Funny how saving two separate worlds through life and death battles seems simpler now than just living out my own future. Maybe it's because I felt needed there. Maybe it was because there was no one telling me what to do and how to do it. Maybe it's just that, out of all the places I've ever lived and ever been, it was the only time I felt like I belonged. 

***

__

Don't wanna be the one who turns the whole thing over

Don't wanna be somewhere I just don't belong

Where it's not enough just to be sorry

***

"What the hell do you care anyway?!" I slam the phone back into the receiver. My father: one. Me: zip. 

My head's spinning, and despite the fact that my forehead feels like someone's taken a blowtorch to it, I'm freezing. Of all the rotten times to be sick. It's hard enough having screaming matches like that with Dad when I'm feeling a hundred percent. 

Sliding down to the floor of Jyou's apartment, I run my hands through my hair in frustration. He left this morning for his classes, and I'm grateful. I didn't even want to listen to that conversation and I was a part of it. But then, that might just be me. I hate it when people argue. Two divorces and a son later, though, my Dad's still revealing in screaming fits. Sometimes I'm half convinced he just gets a rise out of pissing people off. 

Glancing at my watch, I realize I've got at least three hours before my Dad thinks of heading back to the apartment. That's just enough time for me to get over there and get a couple more things. Climbing to my feet, I grab my jacket, and sling it around my shoulders. God, I hope Jyou doesn't mind if I leave my backpack here. Hell, I hope he doesn't mind if I come back. I'm thinking a little better today then I was yesterday, and I'm scared finally. 

I don't have anywhere else to go. At least, not that I can think of. TK's mom and I just never got along, and something makes me think that if I told her what I told my father yesterday, I'd be out on my butt before I could blink. 'Sides, I've always been the troublemaker in her eyes. That's the problem, really, with being a teenager. I never realized I was burning my bridges until they were already gone. 

I grab Jyou's spare set of keys off the peg by the door, and let myself out. After locking it, I slide 'em back under. Hopefully, Jyou'll be back by the time I get back. 

And after that? I mean, I can't keep relying on him like this. I shove my hands in my pockets and try not to shiver as the wind blows through my coat. It's only thirty blocks back the apartment. I try not to groan at the thought and fail miserably. I wouldn't even be going back, but I left almost everything there. All I took was a change of clothes and a toothbrush. 

I guess…I guess I figured that if I gave Dad a little time to think about it, he'd come to accept it. I thought that if I gave him enough time, he'd take me back. But I suppose as far as Father-Son bonds go, ours was never particularly strong. 

And I guess that I always felt like it was somehow my fault. Like there was something that I wasn't doing. Or there was something about me that just wasn't right. 

God, it's strange to look back on myself now. How did I turn all those nights he came home late from work into a punishment for not being a good enough son? How many times did I sit on my bed, staring at the ceiling, convinced that his distance from me was something that I was responsible for? God, it's almost funny how admitting that I'm gay has made me go back and take a closer look at how things went. Who knows, if I'd figured this out a couple of years ago, maybe I wouldn't have these scars on my wrists. 

Nah, I shake my head as I burrow deeper into my jacket. I can look back on it now and sort it all out in my head. But in my heart, I'm still the same little kid who figured it was all his fault. Guess that's half the reason I don't put much stock in logic. Logically, I have nothing to feel bad about, logically, I should be angry--at my parents, at the world. But that's not the way I feel. 

I'm still the boy that a mother couldn't love. Two mothers in fact--that's got to be a record somewhere. I'm still the unwanted burden that a father couldn't bother himself with. I'm still that loathsome brat that caused nothing but trouble wherever he went. 

I manage a small smile as I muse. Funny how I can look at what's happening now and realize it's not happening so much because I'm gay. Oh sure, being gay was definitely a convenient excuse for him. But if it had just been that, we never would have gotten to this point, and I wouldn't currently be homeless. There's just something about me that he can't love, that he can't even bring himself to like. And I guess since I could never pinpoint what it was _exactly_ about me, I figured it had to be all of me. 

Well, I guess I'm not his problem anymore. 

The shirt TK got me for Christmas last year. My guitar. My harmonica. My lyrics notebook. Yeah, that's all that's left of me there. He can take the rest of it and burn it for all I care. I'm done pretending.

***

__

Don't you know I feel the darkness closing in

Tried to be more than me

And I gave 'til it all went away

***

Matt's gone. I stare at my empty apartment without really seeing it. Sure, his backpack's here, but I wouldn't put it past Matt to just split without it. It's not like there was a lot in there to begin with. I guess I can return it to him this weekend. It'd be an excuse to see him again. 

What am I thinking? I shouldn't be attracted to him this way. I shouldn't like him the way I do. But I can't stop. 

It's not like there's a switch that I can just flip to turn these feelings off. 

Sighing, I make my way into the kitchenette. A cup of tea, and I'll be as good as new. I open the cupboard and just stare at my dishes. As good as new, huh? Who am I kidding? This has been a banner day all around, hasn't it. I just flunked my physiology class. Fifty percent of my grade, and I couldn't even manage a D. I grab the nearest cup and pull it out.

Animal Biology lab didn't go any better. God, what sick bastard came up with the idea to dissect cats, anyway? The preservatives they keep those poor things in makes me queasy to begin with. But then to have to cut the skin off their stiff, lifeless bodies…

The cup shakes out of my hand and crashes to the floor. I wussed out again. Good old Jyou, the whiner. I couldn't even watch. I had to leave the room. Even now, I get nauseous just thinking of it. I stare down at the broken cup on the floor as I reach for another. Be a man, my father says. 

He might as well be asking me to catch a star out of the heavens. 

But hey, I'm good old reliable Jyou. I'll try to do the impossible. And with each failure, I'll let this pressure just build up inside me. How am I going to get into medical school with a D? It's not even an option that I won't apply. How am I supposed to be a doctor when I can't even look at a cat cadaver, let alone a human one? But it's a given that that's my goal. How am I supposed to find a nice little obedient wife and have nice little perfect children when my interest in women doesn't extend past casual friendship? It's taken for granted though that I'll settle down just like that in the picture of perfect domesticity. 

There's just one expectation after another. And if I fail just one, then I've disappointed everyone. Be responsible, Jyou. Damn it, I'm trying. I'm trying to be the good son. I'm trying to turn my life into a success. I'm trying to get into medical school, and I'm trying to be a doctor. 

I'm trying to be perfect. 

The second cup slips out of my hand and joins the first on the ground in pieces. I wish it were as easy for me as it is for those cups. I just want to break, shatter into a thousand pieces and let go of all these things in my heart. Reaching up, I grab a plate. I don't want to feel this way anymore. 

Hurling the plate, I can watch in grim satisfaction as it breaks against the wall. It doesn't matter how hard I try. My father, my mother--everyone--will always expect more. I don't even get the luxury to feel satisfaction at my own accomplishments. After all, good old Jyou, it's given that he'll do well. Another A? Well, he always was a good student, it was probably a snap for him. 

Another plate joins the first. Why can't they just love me for who I am? Why do I have to jump through all these hoops just to gain tidbits of affection? Why do I have to work so hard for someone to feel _anything_ towards me? Is there something about me that is just so repulsive that I have to prove, over and over again, that I can be more than just abhorrent? I don't know. But that's what I have to do. No one's gonna pay attention to whiny little Jyou unless he does something noteworthy first. Being me just isn't enough. 

Almost in a trance I walk over to the broken dishes. How unlike me. I never lose my temper like this. I pick up one of the jagged pieces of ceramic and hold it up in the light. 

I want to break. 

Savagely, I drag the shard over one palm and then the other. 

Falling down to the floor, I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes. I can't stop them. Just like I can't seem to stop doing this shit to myself. There's blood dripping off my hands, and through my tears, I stare at it fascinated. Were it anyone's but mine, I'd be sick right about now. But I'm not. I can only watch as it drips out, splashing down onto the ground. 

It hurts of course. But the pressure inside hurts more. All I want to do is give up. Give up on being a doctor, give up on being a man, give up on this pathetic excuse of a life. 

Damn it all! I can't _be_ what everyone wants me to be. And I'm sick to death of trying.

All I want to do is break. 

***

__

And we've only surrendered

To the worst part of these

Winters we've made

***

God, I feel so dizzy. Maybe walking home wasn't such a great idea after all. Too late now, though. I shrug the strap to my guitar up a little higher over my shoulder as I knock on the door to Jyou's apartment. He should be home by now. I wait, but there's no answer, which is odd, I could've sworn that he said he'd be home at 3:30. I look down at my watch. It's four o'clock now. 

But then again, with the way my head is spinning, I could be wrong. Maybe he said 4:30. It's hard to remember. I don't remember most of the walk back here. I hesitate as I look at the doorknob, maybe he just didn't hear the knock. I reach over and twist the knob. The door swings open, and I can see Jyou's shoes sitting there on the mat. So he has to be around here somewhere. 

I slide off my own shoes and put them beside his. I think I really like the way they look sitting there next to his shoes. 

Hey, I can dream. Sometimes, it's the only thing that keeps me going. 

I can hear something coming from the kitchenette, so I gently lay my guitar down and go in to investigate. Rounding the corner, I can see a couple of broken dishes in front of the sink, and as I peer in farther, I spot Jyou. 

He's just sitting there on the floor, staring at his hands. Geez, he's really done a number on them. There's blood dripping off his palms and onto the pieces of broken dishes lying on the floor around him. 

For a moment, all I can do is stare. I mean, what should I do? I can recognize that look in his eyes. Heaven knows how many times I've seen it in my own. Well, what did my father do? I stare at Jyou, taking in the tears that are streaming down his dejected face and the blood that's pooling there on the floor. 

__

"Damn it all, Matt. How am I supposed to get these blood stains out of the carpet?" I look down at my slashed wrists, realizing for the first time that the blood I've been watching drain out of me has pooled beside me on the beige carpet of my bedroom floor. He came home too early. "I guess I oughta take you to the hospital. You've managed to cut yourself pretty deep. And here I was hoping to have a quiet night to just go over my paperwork in peace." He gives a disgruntled sigh as he yanks me up onto my feet. 

"I'm sorry, Dad." Numbly, I stare at him for a moment. He shrugs as he grabs his coat. I can feel myself swaying, and I can see dark spots dancing in front of my eyes as he silently ushers me out the door. 

"Jyou?" I ask gingerly in a low voice as I walk over to him. He looks up at me, then back down at his hands, and finally around the kitchen. Sitting down beside him, I gently pull his hands out and look at them in the light. It's hard to tell, but I think they might need stitches. "Jyou, I understand." They seemed like the right words to say, and he looks directly at me. 

"I just want to break." His voice sounds so dead. I bite my lip as I stare back. And then suddenly, I have an inkling of an idea as to what he needs right now, at this moment. After all, it's as simple as doing the opposite of what my Dad did. Awkwardly, I reach over and pull Jyou close. 

He resists for about half a second, and then latches onto me, throwing his arms around me. I can feel him sobbing against my shoulder. Maybe it's because I'm sick. I always feel weaker when I'm sick. But I can feel the tears sneaking into my eyes too. 

"I'm sorry, Matt." He says finally as he pulls back a little from me, and wipes the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for." Reaching over, I wipe off the smudge of blood he's managed to get on his cheek. "Still, those hands of yours have to hurtin' like a bitch. You think I can convince you to take a trip with me over to the hospital?" I ask softly as he looks at his hands. He swallows hard and then nods. 

We both climb to our feet and as he goes to grab his jacket, I can feel myself swaying slightly. "Whoa." God, every muscle in my body aches, and I swear it feels like I'm never going to be warm again. 

"Matt?" He looks over at me with concern, and I flush. "You know, if we're gonna be at the hospital, it wouldn't hurt to have them take a look at you too." He suggests. 

"Nah, I'm fine." I tell him as we walk out the door. The hospital's only about three blocks from here. I can make it there and back okay. 

***

__

I am all that I'll ever be

When you lay your hands over me

***

"Okay, I just need you to fill out these forms." I watch as the receptionist tries to shove the book of paper at me. Helplessly I look over at Matt. I'd take them, but I'd just bleed all over them. Making a face, he pulls them off the counter. 

"Is there any chance we can just get around this and fill these out later?" Matt asks as the receptionist blows a bubble with her gum. 

"Young Ishida, is that you?" We both turn around to see one of the white coated doctors walking towards us. He reminds me a bit of my grandfather. Old, but pretty spry. 

"Hey, Dr. Yuuki." Matt returns a bit subdued. But he's smiling, so I take it as a good sign. 

"So where are you bleeding from this time, Yamato?" He looks Matt up and down, and the blonde's face turns beet red. Bleeding? This time? I've obviously missed something.

"I'm fine, it's my friend here that needs the help." At Matt's words, the old man's eyes swing over to me, and I hold out my hands. I've got dishrags wrapped around them, but the blood's seeped through them in spots. 

"Exam room 4, Yamato." Dr. Yuuki orders as he points off down the hallway. 

"But I'm fine!" I hide a grin at the stubborn look on Matt's face. 

"March, young Yamato. I'll be with you as soon as I take care of your friend here." Dr. Yuuki winks at me as he grabs my arm and starts ushering me down the opposite hallway. Secretly, of course, I'm glad that Matt's going to get seen. Wherever it was that he went this afternoon, I'm sure he spent a lot of time out in the cold, and I'm fairly certain it's aggravated his fever. 

"Ah here we are. I'm sorry, young man, but I didn't catch your name." Dr. Yuuki says in that absent-minded way that old people have as he shuts the door to the room. 

"Jyou. Jyou Kido." I answer promptly as I unwrap my hands. He walks over, makes a couple of tsk-ing sounds, and then starts rummaging around. 

"So you're Kido's youngest, huh. Betcha don't remember me." Oh great. He knows my father. Dismally, I stare down at my hands. My father's going to hear all about this. God, why me? "No, I suppose you wouldn't. The last time I saw you, you were just a little boy." He walks over and pats me on the head. 

Great, he's senile too. My face flushes though as he chuckles. "Sorry, I'm just not remembering. It's been a while." I apologize. I'm going to catch hell from my father. I can just see it now. 

"Your father and I aren't the best of friends. I only met you and your brothers on a few separate occasions. And then, when your father got promoted, I didn't see much of any of you." I nod because it seems appropriate. Well, at least there's the hope that my father won't catch wind of this. "Still, I'm glad it's you who ended up with Yamato. Boy needs a boyfriend like you to watch out for him." My head snaps up at that, and I don't even feel the needle as he starts sewing up my right hand. 

"Huh?! Wait just a minute…"

"Always picking up the strays. That's how I remember you. It was at one of the annual conventions that your father and I used to go to together, that he brought you and your brothers along. I assume it was to try and encourage you to follow in his pompous footsteps." He snorts, but I can't help agreeing with the sentiment. " There was this stray mangy kitten that was hanging around the building, and your father ordered you to leave it alone." 

Oh my god. I remember. I couldn't have been more than eight at the time. 

"I found you later--when your father was making a presentation inside--with the cat sitting on your lap, eating off your plate." I flush in embarrassment. When my father had found out I'd been playing with the stray, he'd blistered my ears. "I never saw a sneezing kid look so happy." 

"I'm allergic to cats." I tell him as he nods. 

"I figured as much. But you wouldn't let me take that cat until I promised to find it a good, loving home. For such a small boy, you had such a big heart and such a big sense of responsibility."

"Did you find her a good home?" I ask, hoping I don't sound half as childish to him as I do to my own ears. 

"I think so. I had a patient a couple days after that. What was her name?" He putters about thoughtfully for a moment. "K something…Kamiya! That's it. Little Kari. She had a pretty nasty case of pneumonia, and her brother was beside himself, so I gave him the cat to distract him while she got better." My jaw drops. When I think of all the times I saw Miko at the Kamiya's…

"They moved to Kyoto about three years ago." I tell him, as he starts in on my other hand. He nods knowingly. 

"That's when I first met your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" I protest. "He's not even gay!" 

"A boy like Yamato," Dr. Yuuki shakes his head. I don't think he even heard what I said. And my face is red. Again. "A boy like young Matt, needs someone like you in his life. He needs someone to give him love. He hasn't seen enough of it in his life, I'm afraid. I've seen him more than a few times here in this building."

"He's been running a temp for the last two days." I manage to get in as the old man takes a deep breath. He smiles at me, and pats me on the head again. He seems intent on treating me like I'm ten. In a really weird way though, it's refreshing. It's like he doesn't expect anything out of me other than my input. "You don't think he'll leave without getting seen do you?" I ask as the thought suddenly occurs to me. 

"He won't leave without you, Jyou." He admonishes me as he arches a big shaggy eyebrow. "You're boyfriend's a pretty special kid." 

"I know." I say quietly. "But he's not my boyfriend. He's not even gay, Dr. Yuuki. I mean, I do like him. It's impossible not to, but he's just never going to see me that way, you know? He doesn't even know I'm gay." Which makes me wonder for a second how Dr. Yuuki figured it out.

"Posh." He starts bandaging my hands. "You were always such a responsible little kid, Jyou. My Yamato has a very sensitive heart. He keeps it hidden well, too. You take good care of him. I'm counting on you, all right?" He pats me on the head one last time and ushers me out of the room and back out into the waiting room. As he walks away in the direction that Yamato went, I can't help feeling like I've just returned from the twilight zone. 

***

__

But don't go weak on me now

I know that it's weak

***

"Ah, young Yamato. Sick again I see." I turn, a wry smile on my face as Dr. Yuuki walks into the room. For an old guy, he's pretty cool. And I think he's saved my life in more than one way on more than one occasion. I open my mouth to say something, but he shoves a thermometer in instead. Figures. The guy's always been crafty like that. The senility is just an act he likes to carry on. "I just finished sewing up Jyou's hands. He told me to tell you he'd wait for you in the waiting room." I let out a sigh of relief as the old man pulls the thermometer out of my mouth and checks it. 

I guess I didn't realize I was scared he'd leave me behind until Dr. Yuuki said that. I mean, poor Jyou. He doesn't have much of a reason to wait around for me. "So he's going to be okay?" I ask politely. The old man pats me on the head and I roll my eyes. 

"Say ah." He comes over to me with a cotton swab. I know where this is going. Reluctantly, I open my mouth. Had it been anyone else, I probably would have sat there stubbornly until hell froze over, but this is Dr. Yuuki. 

"Quite the catch you got there in Jyou." He tells me calmly as he opens the door and hands the swab to a nurse. 

"Huh?!" 

"He's a good boyfriend for you. Gives freely of his heart, you know." Yeah, I know, but I'm too busy choking on shock to let him know that I agree. "But he needs someone like you. Poor boy's so busy looking out for everyone else's wants and needs, that he doesn't even realize he's got needs of his own. He just has moments where you have to make him take a look at himself."

"Dr. Yuuki, he's not my boyfriend. He's not even gay." I manage to somehow get out before he launches into his next speech. He's ignoring me though, so I sigh. 

"You'll be good for him. You always were good at spotting the needs of others. Remember when you first came in, and you found out that I'd lost my Miaka just a couple months before? Bet I sounded pretty strange to you. Here I was your doctor, and I was telling you--a suicide patient--about how much I missed my Miaka-chan and how I wanted to see her again. So what did you do when you got out? You cooked for me for an entire month." He shakes his head and my face turns beet red. 

He's got a spotty memory. Sure, I cooked him dinner for a month. But in a way, it was in repayment for just taking the time to talk to me and watch over me for those few days that I was in the hospital with an IV stuck in my arm. He was patient and compassionate where my own father hadn't been. "It wasn't a big deal." I mumble in embarrassment. He smacks me lightly on the head. 

"Baka. It was to me." He says with that senile smile plastered on his face. "That's a gift you have, my young friend. You listen to what a person _isn't_ saying when they talk to you. Young Jyou needs that. I know his father. Real stuck up jerk. Oh, he's not as bad as yours, but still. You can just watch Jyou and see that the man's slowly sucking the life out of his son." Dr. Yuuki shakes his head, and if I could see my face in a mirror, I know I'd be seeing that stubborn, obstinate look flashing across my face. 

So that's what been eating Jyou. It makes sense. Even down to his wish to break. I was wondering why he still was insisting on being a doctor when he so obviously isn't suited to it. 

"So what's the deal between you and your father now?"

"He kicked me out. Two days ago." I tell him reluctantly. He nods. "Jyou found me sitting at a bus stop in the rain. I've been with him at his place for the last two days." I turn to look back at Dr. Yuuki, but he's already writing something down on a sheet of paper. He rips a bit of it off and hands it to me. 

"I figured it would be something like that. And knowing you, you'll die of exposure before you'll admit that you need help. This is the number to a good friend of mine. He owns a restaurant just down the street. He's been looking for a good cook for ages. The job'll at least tide you over until one of your songs hit it big." I flush as I take the paper and tuck it in my pocket. God, this is like the answer to my prayers. Or at least, part of them. 

"My songs aren't that great." I add as I hop off the table. 

"I'll have to disagree with you there, young Ishida. I still have that ballad you wrote for me in the memory of Miaka-chan framed in my family room. My visitors always comment on it, wanting to know who wrote it." I flush again as I wobble slightly. I hate being sick. It always makes me feel so out of it. Doc's already at the door, chatting to the nurse. 

"Looks like you've got strep throat again, my young friend." He tells me almost cheerfully. I glare at him balefully as he laughs. "I think I still have some antibiotics set aside for you around here." He leads me out of the room, and then leaves me in the hallway as he takes a quick trip into one of the restricted rooms. 

"You really don't have to do this, Dr. Yuuki. I'll be fine." He steps back out, a bottle in hand, but instead of handing it to me he turns and walks down the hallway. Rolling my eyes all over again, I reluctantly follow him to the waiting room. Jyou's sitting there patiently on the bench, and he stands up as we come into the room. 

"Here you go, young Kido. Make sure he takes one pill three times a day for the next ten days." Jyou nods solemnly as Dr. Yuuki hands him the bottle. What am I twelve again?! "Now you and your boyfriend go home and get some rest." I smack my forehead at Dr. Yuuki's words. 

"Really, Dr. Yuuki." I manage to get out, but the old man's already walking away. I turn to look over at Jyou. He looks perplexed. I don't blame him. 

"Jyou…"

"Matt…"

"You first." He tells me without really looking in my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I turn and sit down in one of those god-awful chairs they keep in hospital waiting rooms. Could they possible be any more uncomfortable? Not that it matters much, I suppose. Things are about to get a lot more uncomfortable. Jyou plops down on the chair next to me. 

Damn it, I am _not_ going to apologize for who I am. For what I am. So he'll think I'm the scum of the Earth. I can handle that. No big deal. 

As far as pep talks to myself go, I've done better. "Jyou," I start out as I stare down at my own hands, "there are a lot of things going on in my life that I haven't exactly been straight with you on. I mean, you let me stay at your place, no questions asked. And man, I'll bet you have a bunch." I sneak a glance at him, and he looks at me with those violet eyes of his. 

"My Dad kicked me out two nights ago. He and I had this huge argument. God, he and I are always arguing. But this time it was different." 

"Dr. Yuuki said he met you here three years ago, Matt. Why were you here?" Stunned, I flip my gaze over to Jyou.

"Huh?" 

"Why'd he assume you'd be the one bleeding?" He got that intense gaze pinned on me, and taking a deep breath, I debate my next words. How much do I tell him about that time in my life? Do I tell him anything? I shrug uncomfortably. Jyou's hand reaches over, grabbing my wrist, and I stare at him in mute shock as he pushes back the sleeve to my jacket. I stiffen as I hear him suck in a hiss of air. "Ah man, Matt." His thumb traces lightly over the largest of the pale scars running across my wrist. 

And I can't take that. Yanking my hand back, I stare down at the floor. I'm not going to cry. God, why am I always so weak like this? "I'm gay, okay. My Dad kicked me out 'cause I'm gay." It comes out angry and defensive and inwardly I wince. All those years of wondering how it was that I was always so alone. God, I'm a piece of work. I'm alone because I push everyone else away. 

"What?" I don't even bother to look over at Jyou. I don't want to see the disgust on his face. It would just hurt too damn much. Pushing up from the chair, I turn to go. 

"I'm gay. See ya around sometime, Jyou." Dazedly, I head for the door. I brace myself for the cold as I walk outside, but it still steals my breath away. But I suppose it's just as well. It's as cold outside as I am inside. 

"Matt!"

***

__

But God help me I need this

I will not sleep in this bed of lies

***

"Matt!" I grab his shoulder and turn him around before he can get farther than a few feet from the door. He turns those blue eyes on me, and on impulse I reach out to stroke his cheek. He just looks so…lost. Hopeless. He jerks warily away from me though, and I can feel my cheeks flushing. 

"I know what you must think of me." He says quietly. "It's okay, you know. I can take care of myself just fine." He shrugs, and for a moment it irritates me. 

"No, no I don't think you know what I think of you." I snap at him, and those blue eyes wrench up to mine, bewildered. "You haven't asked me any questions, either, you know. You just let me drag you back to my apartment. Well, I have to come clean with you too, Matt. I'm gay."

"Jyou?" He just sounds so doubtful, so I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. Now is not the time to get so worked up I have an attack. 

"You wanna know why I slashed my palms like that?" I ask, not really caring if he does or not, I have to get this out. "God. Everyone. And I do mean _everyone_, thinks I'm gonna become this great doctor. An Emergency Room surgeon." I manage a humorless laugh. "Me. The guy who can't even pick out what color socks I'm going to wear."

"Jyou." He says the words quietly and gently as he pulls my hands into his own. He holds the palm up, and I stare at the bandages for a moment. 

"I was hoping that if I cut deep enough, I could sever a tendon or something. A surgeon's greatest assets are his hands."

"Oh God, Jyou." He looks up at me, and I shrug in embarrassment. 

"I know you can take care of yourself just fine. I'm not doubting that." I tell him quietly, as I take my hands back. "I'm just saying that if you need a place to stay for a while, my door's always open."

"I don't want to be a burden, Jyou. I've spent too many years being just that. I know you mean well, but…" He trails off as he takes an uncertain step away from me. 

"A burden? You're kidding, right?" I ask as he takes another step away. Guess not. "I…God I just can't do this anymore." My hands clench reflexively, and they burn like hell. "I know it's weak, but I've never been strong. Not like you or Tai. I hate being alone. But sometimes, it seems like that's the only thing I've ever been. I keep trying to live these lies." I don't think I've ever sounded more pathetic in my entire life. 

"So what are you saying, Jyou?" My head jerks up and I stare at him. 

"I guess…I guess I'm saying that I need you, Matt." 

"That's all I needed to hear." He gently places his hands on the sides of my face, and presses his lips against mine. Pulling back after a couple of moments, he smiles up at me while I look down at him, dumbfound. 

"I never did like Jyou the doctor." He tells me quietly, and I reach over hesitantly. "Just be you, Jyou. You're the man that I like." That decides me, and I pull him close. 

"And you're the one I need in my life." I return quietly as his arms wrap around me. 


End file.
